Jurassic Park: Desolation
by Infinite Rex
Summary: Jurassic World has failed. Following its downfall, a mysterious, sadistic character has exploited the park's funding's and research, with intentions to procreate a line of biological weapons for the military. But he lacks one thing to achieve his goal: Jurassic World's old chief geneticist, billionaire genius Henry Wu.
1. Prologue

The helicopter shook violently, and Henry Wu clutched his seat nervously. The side door in front of him was wide open, for whatever reason, and he was thoroughly petrified of getting thrown out during one of the shakes. There were no seatbelts or anything that he could strap himself down with; he had to relay on the mercenaries to prevent him from falling out, which wasn't a comforting thought. Not that he wasn't comfortable with them; these men were handpicked by Vic Hoskins, and Wu trusted Hoskins' judgment completely. Despite his unfriendliness, Wu was well aquatinted with the man; they both shared similar ambitions and dreams. He was looking forward to working with someone who shared his desire to create.

But Hoskins had failed to share one piece of information with him: where they would be going. At the moment Wu wasn't even aware of where he was being taken. And the mercenaries refused to tell him anything; if he asked they would simply respond with, "Soon enough, sir."  
Wu had the sense he wasn't supposed to know where this place was, which was unnerving to some degree. He couldn't work out why they were withholding information. He started to get uneasy. He thought if he was being taken as a hostage; he didn't really believe that Hoskins would resort to that kind of atrocity; after all, he was willing to share everything with him. There was nothing Wu intended to withhold. Perhaps they wanted his money?

Then, suddenly, the helicopter was slowing. Wu glanced out the open door and saw, illuminated by hundreds of yellow lights, a large compound. There were armed mercenaries crawling the building, and a tall barbed fence circling the complex. Wu felt sick; it looked like a prison.

They were descending rapidly. As they got closer Wu noticed the ground was covered in sand; there were no trees or bushes or any other plant life. It must be a desert. It would be a perfect place for them to practice their experiments in isolation; but also an ideal location for a high-security prison. Wu started to wonder if the game was up, that the authorities somehow discovered his activities; if he was destined to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. The helicopter landed with a gentle thud. The mercenaries immediately took action, scrambling into the bay to retrieve the embryos; one of them grabbed Wu roughly around the shoulders, and guided him out of the helicopter. He was led across the sand, toward the compound. He looked up, and noticed two men standing before him. One was tall and broad-shouldered with a beard, and the other was short, with a clean cut and a briefcase in his let hand. They didn't resemble security officers.

As they neared, the bearded man extending his right arm. "Dr Wu. We've been expecting you," he said.

Wu, not knowing what else to do, shook his hand.

"My name is Frank Wilber. I'm in charge out here," said the bearded man with a pleasant smile. He motioned toward the short man beside him. "This is my assistant, Tucker Lane."

Wu licked his lips. "You're not... I mean, you're with Hoskins, yes?"

The bearded man looked confused. "Of course we are. I was his second-in-command out here."

Wu felt dizzy with relief. "I... sorry, I thought I was on my way to jail. This place looks a lot like prison."

Wilber laughed. "That's rich! You have nothing to fear out here, Dr Wu." He cast a suspicious sideways glance at Tucker, and suddenly, Wu felt unsecure again.

"But enough small talk. There is much to do," said Wilber, taking Wu by the shoulder. "I believe this is going to be a beautiful friendship. I can see it already."

"If you don't mind," said Wu, "but when will Hoskins be arriving?"

Wilber frowned. "You haven't heard?"

Wu didn't like the sound of this. "No..."

Wilber clasped his hands together. "We received word an hour ago," he said slowly. "Vic Hoskins is dead."

Wu stared at him, stunned. Hoskins was dead? "How did this happen?" he demanded.

Wilber started leading him toward the complex. "We're not entirely sure, but apparently, his body was found in the laboratory. That is, what's left of it. It appears he's been dismembered."

Wu recalled reports like this from years ago, back during the time of the old park. Velociraptors were the usual prime suspect for these sorts of attacks. They had a tendency to tear their prey apart, usually cutting them in half so their organs fall out. A sickening thought.

"It's all very sad, but for you and me especially, since he both knew him well," said Wilber, but to Wu he didn't look very upset. In fact he looked almost pleased, like he had gotten rid of a fly that had been annoying him. He was about to say more when suddenly, they were stepping through the doors, into the huge compound.

The interior was massive, with multiple levels that led all the way to the ceiling. Dozens of hallways led to even more rooms. There were mercenaries and other people as well, dressed in yellow and orange work suites. There were pipes stacked in the corners and other building materials; the place looked very incomplete.

"Not everything is ready yet," Wilber explained, walking ahead while Wu hung back to take in the surroundings. "My boys have done a mighty fine job, though. This entire structure wasn't here a month ago."

"Very impressive," Wu muttered, and it was; but he couldn't help feeling uneasy. Something was out of place.

Wilber turned around, and looked back at him. "I'm very excited to work with you, Dr Wu," he said. "We are going to accomplish many amazing things, you and I." Suddenly, his smile faded. His eyes took a dark, aggressive appearance. His voice was dark and threatening.

"But on my terms."

Before Wu could make sense of what was happening, he felt several people grab him from behind. He spun, and saw the mercenaries who had flown him in, all grabbing his sweater and jostling him forward.

"What is the meaning of this!" He yelled.

Wilber turned away from him. "I apologize for this, Dr Wu. But unfortunately, its absolutely necessary."

The mercenaries kept jostling him, and started leading him down a hallway. "You cant do this!" Wu shouted.

"Cant do it?" Wilber repeated. "I can do whatever I want. Hoskins is dead; I'm in charge now."

Wu was struggling furiously, but couldn't brake free from the mercenaries. Panting, he managed to choke out, "You'll live to regret this."

A dark, devious smile crept onto Wilber's face, and he stalked off, laughing manically.


	2. Chapter One: Captive

Three months later...

Henry Wu opened his eyes, blinking in the blinding light coming through the window. He sat up, swung his legs over the bed with a tired yawn. Sleep had been bad, as usual; he could never seem to get any proper rest anymore. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. Eventually he was roused enough to stand. He entered his small, crampt bathroom and thoroughly washed his face; no time for a shower, unfortunately. He left the bathroom, and went to his small fridge, and removed the leftover steak and potato dinner he had saved from the day before. He took several large mouthfuls of cold beef, dressed, and hurried out.  
The office was still a mess. Papers were piled everywhere. He really ought to clean the place, but felt no desire to at all; he was miserable most of the time nowadays. With a heavy sigh he looked toward the desk pushed against the left wall, which was still considerably clean. The clipboard was there, just like every other day.  
The clipboard. He had come to hate that little piece of wood, at no fault of its own; rather he hated what the clipboard signified: His work. His tedious, uninteresting work. He walked toward it slowly, looked down at it with a resentful expression.

For three months, Henry Wu had led a life of miserable displeasure. Deprived of his own free will by his boss, Frank Wilber- a man he had come to hate- Wu was left with nothing to do with his life, except work. And his work wasn't even meaningful. Granted, it was probably being used to accomplish some atrocious task, but nothing beneficial for him. And his job was pathetic. In the morning, he would be given a clipboard- the same clipboard- that had been filled with different equations and factors. He then would read over the pages, learning and memorizing everything, write down any important sections, and return the clipboard to an attendant that evening.

Atrocious, Wu thought of it as. An utter atrocity. He was brilliant man; Henry Wu was a truly brilliant man, and to be deprived to such a low state of employment was simply insulting. He hated Wilber for making him do this. He hated Wilber for imprisoning him in that compound.

Truthfully, his predicament couldn't be described in anything less than imprisonment. During the day he was restricted to the forth floor only. Guards had been posted directly outside his room, and blocking all the exits. He wasn't even permitted to leave the building. In fact the last time he felt fresh air on his face was the day he was brought to this accursed laboratory.  
Wilber was completely paranoid. One would think he expected Wu to sprout wings and fly away. Every window had been barracked or even removed, and Wu had a strong sense there were security cameras monitoring his every move. There were mercenaries crawling everywhere. Wilber took absolutely zero chances; he had made certain that there was no way he could escape.  
Not that he could, even if he escaped the building. There was a barbed wire fence enclosing in compound, and mercenaries everywhere. Not to mention the thousands of miles of empty desert between them and the nearest city.

Wu had acknowledged long ago that there was no way he could escape, but that only added to the misery of his predicament. He accepted that he was destined to remain here, until he was an old man or Wilber found another worthy candidate to replace him. He hated the man, hated him with his whole heart. For imprisoning him there and forcing him to fill out paperwork- for purposes he still wasn't aware of- and for stripping all the enjoyment of life from him.

He was thinking of all this, and suddenly he was overcome with rage. All the stored away anger and misery was coming out of him now, in a boiling, furious feud. He was suddenly reaching for the clipboard, and, focusing all his frustration on the piece of wood, threw it across the room with a furious yell. The clipboard sailed, and struck the wall with a satisfying crack; the wood burst into several pieces, and came to rest in a dusty pile.

Wu stood there, fists clenched, breathing heavily when he became aware of a steady, hard rasping on the door.

"Henry, open up," came a gruff voice.

Wu blinked. "Just a minute!" Quickly he ran to the remains of the clipboard, and started dusting them behind a table.

Another knock. "Henry, its me. What are you doing?"

He didn't bother to answer; the slivers hidden, he stood and started brushing himself off, smoothing his hair and trying to look dignified. He grabbed a lab coat from the table and put it on. Quickly he ran to the door.

Frank Wilber stood threateningly in the doorway. Tucker Lane was with him, as always.

Wilber grinned at him. "Good morning, Henry."

Wu muttered a response and opened the door for him. The two men strolled inside. Wilber turned around and clasped Wu around the shoulders, almost friendly.

"How have you been, my friend?"

Wu did his best to smile. These greetings were ridiculous, but he decided it was better to let Wilber think he was mellow about the whole situation. "Very good, thank you."

Wilber nodded. "That's very good." He looked at Lane for confirmation, who nodded ecstatically.

Wu cleared his throat. "Pleasant as this surprise is, gentlemen, I really must get back to work. I'm very busy this morning," he said.

Wilber's smile weakened. He chuckled, and patted Wu on the shoulder. Suddenly he leaned in close. "I think its time this deception ended," he said.

Wu gulped. He tried to not look intimidated, but truthfully, he had a strong fear of Wilber; or rather, what Wilber was capable of. And the answer to that was, very bad things.

Wilber pulled away. "I've had enough of this crap," he said. "You hate me, so stop pretending you don't."

Wu shook his head. "No, sir, th-

"Yeah, you do," Wilber interrupted. "Which is why we're here this morning. We have some news."

Wu remained silent, unsure what direction this was talking.

"We came to tell you that your purpose here is almost complete," Wilber continued. "My scientists have perfected their little black box, and are very nearly ready to test it. When they succeed, you will be free to leave."

Wu couldn't believe what he was hearing. Part of him wanted to believe Wilber- wanted to believe him so badly- but the other part knew he shouldn't trust the bearded man, not even for a moment.

Wilber's eyebrow rouse. "You look skeptical. I swear Henry, on my mother's grave, you will be free to go. Why would we keep you here?"

"Something tells me your doing something out there, something the world wouldn't like," Wu said, before he could stop himself; but it was too late.

But Wilber just smiled. "We have nothing to hide. Before the week is over the whole world will know what we've done for her," he said. He motioned with his chin. "You may want to start packing."

And the left the room, leaving Wu stuttering like a fool.

"Do you really intend to release him?" said Tucker Lane to Wilber as he shut the door. The bearded man turned, looked at his assistant. He sighed heavily.

"We live in an indecent time," he said with an almost regretful tone in his voice. "If we want to stay on top we have to ensure that Wu never becomes associated with any other organizations."

"He could create something else," said Lane. "Something better than what we have."

"Exactly," said Wilber, starting down the hallway. "Wu's the only one who knows how to do it. Without his work no-one else will be able to crack the code; in our century, anyway. And I hope even when it's over our company remains the best supplier for warfare weapons."

"So we must dispose of Wu, once we've achieved our goal," said Lane deviously.

"Unfortunately," said Wilber with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Unfortunately, my friend, sometimes we are left with no alternative."

The two men laughed to each other.


	3. Chapter Two: An Anchor in the Storm

Scott Williams' jaw was locked tightly. His skilled fingers worked progressively on the underside of the jeep, with the aid of wrenches and pliers and a whole assortment of useful tools. His hands moved almost on their own accord, efficiently repairing the damaged undergarments of the vehicle; his handiness was an pleasing side effect of his many years working on machinery. But mechanics were more of a hobby now. Fifty year old Scott Williams was chief of security at the secret isolated laboratory. And he sure took his job seriously. No-one and nothing was safe from the nightmarish experiments Wilber was screwing around with in his lab. Someone had to make the place safe... And since the divorce, Williams found he had lots of time on his hands.

He was finished the task in minutes. Pausing for a brief moment to admire his work, he snatched up his tools and slid out from under the jeep. The sun was on his face instantaneously. By now he should be used to the hot environment, but after being down under the vehicle for several minutes he was caught off guard by the ferocious glare. _Screw this desert_ , he thought. Of all the places for Wilber to set up his little lab it had to be in the middle of a sweltering desert. But then again, what did he know about all that.

A person was standing over him. Blinking Williams saw it was Liam Rye. Rye seemed so out of place at the lab; he was a twenty-two year-old kid from the city, with a witty attitude and wholly unappreciated sense of humor. But Williams liked him, and aside from being a skilled mechanic, it was for that sole reason Rye was even there. Williams found him several years back; a dropout college student repairing car engines in his grandfather's garage. Williams met him after a young Rye witnessed his car break down. He offered to repair the engine for a hundred bucks. A short time later he learned that Rye was dumped on his grandfather by his boozed parents and trying to earn some cash fixing cars. Williams' wife had recently divorced him, and he thought that since he had no-one else to supply for, he could at least help this kid settled into a good carrier. He worked heard enough; all he needed was a boost.  
As it turns out, Williams formed a close bond with Rye, and after several years of mechanical work, he brought him along to his new job; where Rye was made a security officer.

"Tuckered out, old man?" Rye slurred. The comment wasn't in the least bit insulting; rather, the two of them often addressed each other in such manners.

Williams grinned at him. He got onto knees and stood. Rye knew better than to offer his hand. Williams was usually neutral, but didn't take well to anyone attempting to assist him physically; he always thought of it as an insult, that everyone thought he was getting too old.

When, in fact, he was in extremely good condition. He was very solid and still perfectly capable of running and jumping and performing other athletic stunts. And strong. Out in the sun now, Williams' powerful muscular body was completely visible. He had removed his uniform- not just for show, but he was constantly aware of the glances of his fellow workmen whenever he took off his shirt- and wore only a thin, once-white shirt overtop. But by now the shirt had been so stained an mangled and torn that it was difficult to tell what it was originally supposed to be. At this point it closer resembled a piece of dirty cloth.

Not that looking fashionable was a large concern for the workmen out there; and as long as it kept him cooler in the blistering sun, Williams could care less.

Rye watched him with a sly look. "All done?"

Williams wiped his greasy hands on a dry rag. "Only one way to know for sure. Fire her up."

Rye jumped into the jeep's driver seat. A moment later the engine roared to life. Rye gave him a thumbs up out the window.

Williams grinned, pleased that the vehicle was operating correctly again, but he couldn't help feeling slightly agitated. All the cars were left out in the heat all day; as a result engine malfunctions were frequent. This was yet another downside of the lab's inconvenient location. With all the broken-down vehicles, Williams was out here doing repairs more than he was inside. And there was the additional inconvenience of Wilber having the bright idea to hire only one repairman; apparently he hadn't realized the heat would cripple his jeeps, and multiple hands would be needed to keep up with repairs. Additionally, there wasn't even a garage anywhere, or someplace else to shade the cars. One inconvenient thing after another.

He was aroused when he noticed someone walking across the sandy field toward him. It was Jack Hooper, the repairman, decked out in his big grimy apron. Williams hadn't a clue how he could withstand the heat in that thing.

He greeted the repairman. "Almost done?"

Hooper nodded; he looked exhausted. "Think so. If you've finished over here."

Williams motioned to the jeep Rye was in. "That was the last one."

"Great," Hooper panted. "We're done. I tell ya, I cant wait to get inside and get a nice, cold beer. Well deserved, I would think, after all this repairing. You'd think Wilber could at least install a garage, get these suckers out of the sun. This is ridiculous."

Williams frowned. "Don't even start with Wilber. Sometimes I wonder if he's just trying to make it harder out here."

Rye had joined them now. He greeted the repairman. "I don't know about you two," he said, "but I could use a beer right now." Hooper nodded ecstatically, but Williams objected that he first had to run the security scan back inside.

"It'll take a while, so don't wait for me." He said. "Just save me a cold one." He was about to leave, when Hooper spoke up.

"I just wanted you two to know I really appreciate the help," he said. "Without you boys I'd be out here all day, working on these cars."

Rye bumped his shoulder. "Lets just hope that, between the three of us, we can keep up with the repairs," he said.

"Yeah," Hooper laughed. "Lets hope."

The trio entered the building and parted ways. Rye went with Hooper to the lounge, and Williams swerved to the left, toward the security room. But then he realized it may be appropriate to acquire a proper shirt first, and retired briefly to the bunks.

He then entered the security room. The small, dull living space and workstation was occupied by three other officers: Cage, who was monitoring the computer monitor; Gable, who was standing nearby, drinking; and Parsh, who sat in one of the blue lounge chairs. He greeted all three; they returned in kind and Parsh asked, "How's it outside?"

Williams grumbled. "Being a smart-aleck again?"

Parsh laughed. "Only as much as I can be."

"Shut up, Parsh," Cage called over. "Show a little respect."

"Shut up yourself," Parsh retorted with a rude gesture. "Maybe you should just finish with the scan, yeah?"

Cage scowled at him. "Maybe you could get off your duff and do it yourself," he snarled.

"Speak for yourself. You look seated to me," Parsh drawled.

"Shut up."

"Enough!" Williams shouted, stamping a heavy foot that seemed to shake the floor. " _All_ of you shut up, or I'll have you relocated to the bathrooms cleaning stalls."

Parsh grimaced. Cage lowered his gaze. "Sorry, chief."

"Don't be sorry," Williams growled. "Have you finished with the scan?"

"Almost," said Gable, from behind the monitor. "Just a few more entries to sort through, and we'll be done."

"And?" pressed Williams.

"Well, there wasn't much. All quiet on the cameras. But there was an incident earlier, on the forth floor. That scientist- the Chinese American- he had a, er, 'disagreement' with a guard there. Guy came back with a bloody nose, poor devil."

Williams looked grim. The scientist one the forth floor had been involved in a series of 'disagreements' ever since his arrival. More disturbing, he was scarcely seen outside his room. Several times Williams pressed Wilber for information about him, but was usually shrugged off.

That idiot. He had too many secrets. Most of which he wouldn't even share with the security, which was ridiculous as it was unsettling.

"He's up to something, that one," declared Parsh. "That Chinese man. I know it."

"Shut up, Parsh. He's harmless enough," said Cage.

Parsh just snorted.

Williams pulled away from the computer. "I need to check up on control; just to make sure everything's going good down there. Finish with that scan."

Cage saluted. "Sure thing, chief."

Williams paused. "By the way, has Wilber hinted when he intends to start on his tests? I'd like to know beforehand."

"Actually, he's announced it publically," Parsh told him.

Williams's eyes widened. "When? Why wasn't I told?"

"Well chief, you were outside."

Williams was forced to dismiss his irritation. "When does he plan to start?"

"This week, I think. Could be any day, really."

Williams thought hard. He had completely expected the testing to begin soon; Wilber's increasingly frequent visits to the laboratory had already alerted him of that. But he hadn't imagined the time to be so near. This was a miniature disaster; Williams wasn't even remotely prepared.

He needed to arrange safety precautions; he had to prepare for the worst. "I'm off. Finish the scan; and inform all officers I want them to report back here in one hour."

The three other men shared confused glances. He ignored them and hurried out the door.

* * *

There was an animatronic buzz as the big metal door slid open. Control. Williams liked this room; upon entry the visitor was immediately relished with a sense of security. Bright, florescent lights reflected against the walls; several huge screens were set up against the wall, displaying different console views and camera feedback. And there was an entire section of the station dedicated to computer consoles, all aligned tidily in a neat row. From there the staff were able to control all the electric circuits in the building, from the cables connecting to the power generators to security cameras. All powered and maintained from that room.

Williams knew that, without a doubt, regardless of what Wilber said, that place would be entirely dysfunctional without the Control Room. He appreciated the reliable electrical gear, and more so the level-headed intellects who worked there. These weren't clueless, uneducated employees, no sir! These men and women had been handpicked by Williams himself; _real_ geniuses with degrees in technology; intelligent people. He kept them busy, and they were sure to do their tasks correctly. No screwing around in this room.

Williams came down the steps into the room properly. Right now the screens hanging on the wall were displaying an infrared viewpoint of the compound, from above. Usually this screen was kept on constantly, because of its importance; the others switched between camera views and weather broadcasts and other factors; but the infrared screen remained visible constantly.

The staffers were not attending to their stations; rather, they had broken focus and gathered into small groups, to gossip and mingle together. The computer consoles were left unmonitored. They waited silently, in a state of uselessness, for their maintainers to return. A big waist, Williams thought with distaste. Although he couldn't blame the workers for their laziness. Most of them had been assigned to that room as camera monitors, to watch the feedback the security cameras supplied. On most days there was hardly anything interesting to see, and the workers found themselves with lots of time on their hands.

But as head of security, Williams could not tolerate inattentive staff. In a complex structure where no-one bothered to monitor the goings on disasters were liable to occur. He stomped into the room, yelling frantically at the staff; the startled people regarded him with stunned expressions for a moment before hurrying to their stations, the small-talk completely forgotten, and seated themselves and tried to appear busy.

Satisfied, Williams drifted toward a desk located near the centre point of the room, where the room's supervisor was stationed.

Peter McCoy sat calmly in his chair, appearing remarkably bored. At that moment he was yawning, rubbing his tired eyes. Williams regarded him with a sudden perturbed expression. McCoy was the supervisor; ergo, he was responsible for the other staff members, and required to keep them busy and attentive. And although he hadn't noticed among the gossiping crowd, which made Williams consider that perhaps the chief was more reliable than the others, he was disturbed by McCoy's bored, non-interested appearance. With a massive hand he knocked the manger gently against the head; McCoy jumped with surprise.

"Scott!" The manager gasped. Suddenly he looked much more focused. Williams chuckled, amused.

"What're you doing, man? I thought you were the chief here, aren't you?" Williams asked him. His voice was calm, but there was a perturbed sternness in his words. McCoy stared at him.

"Um. Yes, sir." He stammered. The station manger was a scrawny thirty-five year old, with shaggy black hair and a thick beard. The unkempt facial hair made him appear immature; childish.

"Well, your whole team was having a good chat just now. Why weren't they attending to their work?" Williams said.

McCoy glanced briefly at the other staffers. "Sorry. I must have dozed off."

"Apparently," Williams said, grinning. "You are aware of the significance you and your team are to the stability of this compound, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah, sir, definitely," McCoy told him. "But you see, the men are bored, slightly. They've got nothing to do all day, but watch computers, you see. So they break off sometimes, stretch their legs a bit. I was watching them, sir, I swear. But I don't sleep so great anymore; tend to doze off sometimes."

"Yes, well, its incredibly important the men stay attentive, you know." Williams said, not being uncompassionate. He completely understood McCoy's sleeping issues; in fact, the effects of deprived rest were showing through more clearly every day. Williams was beginning to worry for him.

McCoy nodded, stifling another tired yawn. "I'll do better now, sir, don't worry."

Williams patted him on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, man." He paused. "So when does Wilber plan to start testing?"

McCoy looked confused. "Testing? On the dinosaurs? Gee, man, I don't know. He announced on the intercom it would be happening soon."

"Yes, I know that. I'd just like to know when exactly."

"He didn't tell you?" McCoy looked surprised.

"No, of course he didn't. Little sucker never tells me anything anymore."

McCoy frowned. "Well, I could try to find out, if you want. Place is dead here anyway," he added, with a glance at the other employees.

Williams shook his head. "Someone's gotta watch the place over, man."

"That's no problem. I'll just leave Martin in charge."

"Sean Martin?" Quickly Williams scanned the room for the younger man. He hadn't seen him earlier, with the other employees, and couldn't spot him now either.

"I just sent him on an errand. He should be back any minute though," McCoy explained.

Williams nodded. "Okay. You're good to go, then. But I don't know what you're expecting to find out."

"Anything to get out of this place," the manger grumbled, and Williams wholly agreed.


	4. Chapter Three: In the Metal Cage

The animal made quick, vibrant movements. Powerful muscles rippled beneath scaly flesh, stretching and pulling with ease as strong limbs moved back and forth. An inquisitive pink tongue emerged from the jaws to quickly smell the air; a motion mimicked by modern reptiles. But this was no common lizard- this was the alpha to all reptiles. She was superior to them all.

The dinosaur paced her small enclosure. She would stop occasionally, to sniff curiously at one of the bars. The bars that held her. She hadn't yet realize that she was a prisoner, trapped in that tiny cage made of metal. But she would, soon. It was part of her design; she was supposed to be smart.

It was soon made abundantly clear that there was no escape from the cage. She had looked everywhere, carefully examined the entire enclosure; no, there was nothing. No way out. She wasn't curious anymore. She was frustrated. A low, menacing growl escaped her jaws as she pondered on the situation. The cage was far too small, and even if it was a comfortable size, she didn't want to stay there. She _deserved_ to be free. Curiously her jaws closed in around one of the metal bars; she sunk her sharp teeth in and bit gently. Nothing. There was scarcely a mark left behind. The jaws closed around the metal again, harder this time; the smooth bar slid beneath her teeth. She couldn't get a firm grip on it. Frustrated the dinosaur bit harder and more frantically, furiously tried to chew through the impenetrable metal; nothing. It would not break.

She was trapped.

Watching the angered animal with intense fascination was a middle-aged, dark-haired woman: Jennifer Brice, the head geneticist. Previously a biological genius hired by the military, Brice quit her job when approached by Frank Wilber, who offered her a new carrier at the laboratory; with promises of further wealth and fame.

So far, Wilber had been one to keep his promises; now Brice was simply waiting eagerly for the fame. Her accomplishments at the lab were going to make her extremely powerful. Imagine, being the genius behind the anti-war project. Warfare was going to end overnight, all thanks to her.

And Wu.

Wu. Brice loathed the senior geneticist unwavering. Wilber could praise her all he wanted; could rub cash in her face and kinder her with serene promises. There was no denying the fact that Wu was the real brains behind the project. The dinosaurs were only there because of him; because of what he had created. Henry Wu cracked the code twenty odd years previous and bred living, breathing dinosaurs. Brice despised him for his accomplishments, and that he was still treated as the lead. That title rightfully belonged to _her_. With enough time she eventually would have bred living dinosaurs, too. But Wilber turned her down. Said he wanted to make sure the job was 'done right.' Simply put he didn't trust Brice with the responsibility.

It didn't matter; the problem would eradicate itself. That's what Brice kept telling herself; once the world knew about her success, Wilber would make her the lead scientist. A title the greedy woman had yearned for since her employment.

 _I'll be lead_ , she thought to herself now, as she studied the dinosaur. No more Wu.

As long as the tests were successful. But Brice was already certain they would be. The first part was done, anyway; they had bred a new dinosaur, with the size of a Velociraptor and intellect on a scale of something never seen before in reptiles.

That was the very animal that stood before her in the cage now; a miniature _Indominus_ _Rex_. A fully functioning, successful reproduction of the creature that had been created as a theme park attraction for Jurassic World. Except now its purpose had been altered entirely, from a park attraction to a specialized unit designed for the military. Right now there were only two of them, but later on dozens more would be bred and shipped to the government for usage on the battlefield.

 _End human warfare_ had been Wilber's motto from the beginning; Vic Hoskins', too. But he was dead now. But Brice could care less who she was working for, as long as her boss' intentions remained the same. As long as she was made famous.

"She looks pretty good," observed a young, neat gentlemen opposite Brice. The woman credited him with a furtive glance.

"Yeah. She does, Connor." This was the first time anyone had seen the dinosaur since her birth. Part of regulations demanded that the subjects be confound to the nursery until matured. Subject A-02 had been transferred just that morning, along with her sister, Subject A-01.

The younger man moved closer, to get a better view. He watched the animal with intense fascination.

"Look at how she moves," Brice murmured.

"I didn't think they'd be so active," he replied. "She's all over the place."

The imprisoned dinosaur suddenly seemed to take notice of them. A yellow, florescent eyeball peered at them; but there was no friendliness in the stare. The cold reptilian eye bored down on them with an intense gleam; she looked hungry.

Beside her, Brice noticed Connor shifting uncomfortably, as though he noticed the animal's intentions.

Without warning the creature sprang toward the bars; its movements were so sudden and unexpected they were hardly noticeable. But suddenly the dinosaur was crashing against the bars just inches from the onlookers faces, jaws clamed around the metal, talons locked on the bars, hissing loudly.

Connor was so surprised by the attack that he stumbled backward a step and fell over; the reactions of the other onlookers were similar. But Brice remained motionless, watching with what could only be described as intensified fascination at the furious attacker.

"Look at you," she said to the animal. It snarled in return.

"So fierce. So strong." She was staring at the dinosaur unwavering.

Connor picked himself off the floor, but he stood further back now; further away from the angry creature. Somewhere behind the crowd, an audible curse was heard that essentially described the shock everyone had been left in.

Everyone except Brice, obviously, who was still watching, murmuring phrases to the dinosaur.

"Come on. Come and get me. Show me what you've got."

The undersized dinosaur hissed furiously at the doctor, almost in response to her inquiry. But now it seemed bored by the creatures beyond its reptilian reach, and slunk further back into the enclosure.

Brice stood up from her crouched position, slowly, easing upward. Everyone was still perplexed by the terrifying charge.

There was a loud, thundering crash at the other end of the room; the bearded form of Frank Wilber took shape in the darkened doorway. His stance resembled- in a grimly, humorous manner- that of a phantom. This observation was entirely unappreciated by the geneticists gathered in the room, who were already shaken up considerably.

Frank Wilber descended upon the scientists. There was that same bothersome grin obscuring his features, mimicked feebly by his pet Tucker Lane who was crawling after him.

Brice examined her boss with a distasteful expression. In addition to being unfriendly, unlikeable and, at times, cruel, the bearded man was just generally boring and unentertaining to be around. But he sure seemed to like her. A little more than the geneticist was comfortable with, in fact. At that moment he had turned from the other scientists and had fixed her with a dreary stare that actually made the doctor shift with discomfort. Funny. The monsters Brice was raising didn't bother her in the slightest; but this, _person_ , made her shiver with unease.

And she hadn't overlooked the fact that he was at _least_ five years her junior.

Brice decided to get right to the point. Wilber had arranged to arrive at the holding pens to examine the first of his new test subjects, and that's exactly what Brice intended to show him, now; the sooner the testing starting, the closer they were to success. She greeted him quickly, before he was given the opportunity to speak.

"I'm glad you could come," she told him, although she really wasn't glad at all; "We have only two subjects at the moment; several more are still in the production of growth, but should be fully matured within days."

Wilber's grin widened. "How many?"

"Well, sir, our last tally confirmed the production of three dozen specimens. Is that sufficient information for you?" She caught the startled look by Lane, who appeared surprised that Brice would disown her boss like that. But Wilber just nodded agreement.

"Of course it is. Show me the subjects," he ordered.

Brice led them toward the first dinosaur- the one she had been examining- but unexpectantly steered away from the caged animal, and walked across the room, where a second Indominus had been caged. Her actions were bizarre but not without reason; this specimen was A-01, and the other was A-02. For the sake of ethnicity she had decided to display them in numbered order.

They approached the cage. A seemingly identical dinosaur to the one before was calmly resting on its belly. It's head lifted and lazy, dull eyes peeked out of the head to watch the humans attentively, displaying only minor interest.

Wilber got close to the cage. A-01 shifted her gaze to look directly at him. They stared in silence for several moments, reptilian and human; then a pink, barbed tongue emerged from the mouth to lick lazily at an eyeball.

The tension in the atmosphere grew at a noticeable rate as Wilber became obviously angry. His head spun on the shoulders to stare accusingly at Brice.

"I said I wanted _weapons_ , Dr Brice."

Brice swallowed hard. "Does this specimen dissatisfy you?"

"Dissatisfy?! It is entirely unacceptable!" Wilber told her angrily. "I wanted weapons. Those things Hoskins talked about. Those really mean dinosaurs."

"Don't be so quick to judge," Brice warned him.

Wilber laughed, but there was nothing cheerful about his voice. "Look at it! It's just lying, looking like a stupid, overgrown newt. It's not fierce at all!"

"You haven't seen these things in action, sir," proclaimed a nervous Connor from beside Dr. Brice.

Wilber stared sternly at the younger man. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak, _assistant_ geneticist."

Connor shrunk beneath his gaze.

Wilber turned on Brice again. "I am thoroughly disappointed, Dr. Brice. You promised me weapons. Really mean dinosaurs, you said. What is this iguana you've given me?"

Brice tried to control her temper; at that moment she was desperately hoping the caged animal would jump, or roar or snarl, or do something to convince Wilber of it's potential. But it just went on staring at them, completely unenthusiastic. But it hadn't failed to notice another, smaller human approaching it's cage cautiously. The nervous Tucker Lane had kept his distance from the dinosaur up until that moment. But suddenly he was feeling reassured by Wilber's scornful words, and mustered his courage enough to approach it. The creature inside the cage watched him curiously as the shorter man got very close; dangerously close...

"...will be disowned, Dr. Brice. I will disown you!" Wilber was shouting frantically.

"Sir, please, give them a chance!" Brice was begging now. "They have potential."

Wilber scowled. "Don't make me laugh! That thing couldn't kill someone if he waltzed right up to it and put himself-

He was interrupted by loud, frantic screaming. Everyone spun around toward the direction of the noise; the cage. Tucker Lane was pressed against the bars, pulling and tugging frantically, kicking his now levitating legs as he struggled to move away from the cage. At first Brice couldn't see anything past Lane's squirming body; then she noticed, to her intense fascination, a pair of jaws closed over the assistant's shirt, pulling and tearing with unrelenting ferocity...

Panicked cries filed the room. Wilber was suddenly rigid, completely frozen; Brice was watching intently. Lane was shrieking, screaming for someone, for anyone to help him.

Then suddenly Connor leapt forward and grabbed ahold of Lane's ankles. He tugged determinedly at the black dress shoes. But his strength was far exceeded by the angry dinosaur in the cage, and couldn't get him free.

But his sudden heroic courage rallied others, and soon other geneticists were rushing forward to join the fray. Within seconds half a dozen bodies had gathered around Connor, grabbing hold of Lane wherever they could and pulling.

Despite the hidden dinosaurs' immense strength, she was easily outmatched by the grown men and woman tugging at the short man. The dinosaur calmly released Lane; then all the bodies came tumbling backward, falling together into a tangle.

Silence, in the room. Lane was somewhere at the bottom of the pill; someone reached in and pulled him free. Immediately he was checked over, checked for any injuries. Careful analysis determined that although the expensive business suit and shirt underneath had been ravaged, Lane himself had not been hurt. Physically, anyway. He appeared to be struggling for breath. He was hurried down to the nurse's office.

Everyone started to breath easier after that. Brice had been so perplexed by the whole ordeal that she remained frozen in the moment until a shaky, human hand appeared on her shoulder. She turned and saw that it was Connor.

"I'm going back to my room for a while," he told the older woman. He was badly shaken up, so Brice reluctantly agreed to grant him some rest.

She turned around again and saw Wilber.

The bearded man was staring at her. Now there was a peculiar look in his eye, very different from the one before. He appeared baffled, like he couldn't believe what Brice was doing, the she had created something so monstrously awful...

But then the look was gone. He relaxed slightly and uncurled his fists, breathing heavily to steady himself. There was another moment of silence between the two. And then in a shaky voice Wilber announced, "Perhaps we are do to some slight reconsideration."

Brice understood. She nodded, unable to find her voice to speak. Then Wilber turned away and left the room. Brice watched him go, feeling incredibly pleased despite the madness that had just ensued.

And the creature in the metal cage felt very much the same way...


	5. Chapter Four: Necessary Percautions

Henry Wu sat silently on the medical bed as his nurse poked and prodded him relentlessly. Currently she was checking his face over, gently examining his features for injury. Wu was not partial to anyone, but he resented the nurse especially; and if he wasn't so damaged, he would have been disgusted by these feelings, considering the woman was neither cruel or unkind; on the contrary, she was very patient and understanding. But it was in fact her kindness that irked him, especially now.

She was still looking over his face for injury; Wu could only stare uncomfortably at the floor, and hope that she would finish soon. This certain fussing was exceptionally bothersome. And awkward.

Finally she released a stifled sigh, and drew away. "Well, Mr. Wu. I think you're good to go." She said. "No signs of injury, and your cheekbone is setting fine."

Wu remembered how he received that wound; several weeks back, he was in another fight with a guard. As a result he suffered a fractured cheek, but it was well worth it.

Well worth it.

The nurse pulled off her gloves and moved to another table. She was looking at a computer, one that displayed an X-Ray of Wu's skull. Wu thought she was distracted enough to escape; he slipped off the bed, grabbing his coat along the way, started toward the door-

"Wait a moment," the nurse called out. "You're not done yet."

Wu cursed his misfortune silently; "Okay."

"There's still something I need to discuss with you," she told him, firmly.

"Okay," Wu said again.

The nurse stared hard at him. "This is your fourth fight this month, doctor."

Wu nodded. Surprisingly, he was not ashamed by this fact.

"I don't know what would posses you, a dignified gentleman, to cause so much mischief," she said, sternly. "But it needs to stop. You can't keep hurting yourself."

Wu snickered; a very sinister snicker. "What? Didn't you see the guards? They always bleed more than I do. Heh heh..."

The nurse grabbed him around the arms. "I am very serious, Mr. Wu."

"So am I," Wu laughed.

"And it's not just irresponsible; it's dangerous, especially for someone your age."

"Are you calling me old?" Wu snapped, shrugging her off. "I could beat someone half my age; I could beat you, right now!"

The weight of what he had just said didn't register for several moments; then an overpowering sense of misery descended over him. His shoulders sagged and his head dropped, shamefully. What was wrong with him? He just threatened his nurse!

"I... I'm sorry, Doc. I don't... I don't know what's... what's wrong with me."

Gentle, comforting hands gripped his shoulders. "Stress," the nurse said. "You're under a lot of stress. You need some time off, Mr. Wu. Take a break and relax a bit."

Wu didn't feel like confiding in the nurse how that would be technically impossible, and instead nodded feebly and moved toward the door.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wu," the nurse called.

"Bye, Doc," Wu murmured, stepping out into the hallway. Hurriedly he traveled down the hall; his one desire now was to curl up in his bed, and sleep peacefully for a while, with no interruptions or distractions. Just rest for a while.

The hallway was mostly empty. Everyone was probably at lunch, he thought. The few people he encountered were hardly talkative, but he hid himself from them nonetheless, averting his eyes and trying to look distracted by something. He had nearly arrived at his room; but when he looked up, he noticed a single security guard with a very long nose standing near his room. Wu thought he recognized the guard; then he remembered: he had been present earlier, when Wu assaulted that other guard.

And the long nosed guard seemed to remember that very clearly, because when he noticed Wu approaching his position, he fixed the geneticist with a hard, cold stare. Wu tried to hide his gaze from the man, but he was very conscious of the guard's eyes remaining on him as he fiddled with the lock on his door, slipped into the room, and slammed the door shut, locking it firmly behind him. He collapsed on the door and surveyed his messy room for a moment; then he moved groggily to his bed, and fell onto the warm mattress, shoes and all. He wrapped himself up in the fluffy covers, allowing the feeling of warmth to rejuvenate and comfort him; it was a small comfort amidst all the turmoil, but gratefully accepted nonetheless. At least he could escape in his dreams.

* * *

Hours passed; Wu was awakened by a steady gnawing in his stomach, his body begging for food. Reluctant to leave the bed, he remained where he was for several minutes more, until eventually the pain in his gut became unbearable. Yawning he left the covers and moved across the room, toward his miniature fridge; he was just checking through the contents when suddenly, he became aware of a faint noise that he presumed before to just be sounds produced by the building. Now he clearly heard a male voice, yelling faintly outside. Curiosity overcame hunger; Wu moved away from the fridge and toward the window, where the screaming appeared to be coming from.

Wu was fortunate enough to be stationed in a room that overlooked a large section of the compound, and the wired gate below. There he saw, faintly, three figures near the fence; two dressed in black- probably guards- and another, downed in blue garments and a white lab coat. The person- who Wu assumed to be a scientist- was screaming directly at the guards, waving his arms crazily and motioning to the gate; to the desert beyond.

Wu got the feeling the person wanted to leave; he couldn't hear anything from so far away, but the person's behavior suggested it. He watched curiously for a few minutes. Then one of the guards pulled something from his belt, and brought it down over the man's head.

Wu flinched.

The guards grabbed the person just before he fell to the ground. Hooking him under the arms, they dragged him over the sand and out of sight. Immediately following them another pair trotted up, and took the position at the gate.

Wu backed slowly from the window. He was momentously disturbed by what he had just witnessed. Dozens of questions ran through his mind: the identity of the crazed person; why he wanted to leave so desperately; the guards denying him passage...

Until that moment Wu believed he was the only captive at the base, but now it appeared there were multiple people trapped here against their will- or maybe, no-one was allowed to leave, at all. Maybe this was like a prison, and once you got into it, there was no way out.

The thought was so unsettling that it kept Wu awake all night.

* * *

The small room wasn't much too look at.

What little furniture that meekly represented decoration was old, almost vintage. The small wooden table, chairs and lampstand all bore scratches and marks from wear. The sofa was an ugly little blue thing and everything was accumulated with dust. Even the windows, which at one time would have provided view to the laboratory below and an unattractive sight of the desert outside were greasy and covered with grime. Everything else was in a similar state of misuse; there was hardly anything pleasing to be seen there.

Scott Williams, head of security's one thought was, _how does anyone live in this?_

The blunt answer to that query was, they don't. The run-down living space belonged to Frank Wilber. It was apparently supposed to serve as a private living area, but from its obvious state of misuse, it was clear no-one had occupied the lounge for some time; and it wouldn't be outrageous to suggest that Wilber himself hadn't even been in there for months.

Until, of course, today; now the bearded man's expression was of simultaneous astonishment and disgust as he gawked in surprise at the disastrous mess. "Jeez, it's messy! Where've all the cleaners been?"

Williams wagered the answer to that question was, none had been hired.

Wilber waved away a cloud of dust that had formed from all the commotion. "It wasn't nice when I last saw it. No way. but it wasn't _this_ bad." He stopped for a moment as he suddenly caught sight of something long and white dangling in the corner. "Jeez. There's even spider webs."

Williams established that there could very well be anything hiding in that room- in the dark unlit corners and underneath the furniture- and decided it would be best to avoid contact with everything. Wilber didn't appear so worried; eagerly he plopped himself down on the sofa, that sent dust flying into the air and filling the room.

"What're you doing?" Williams shouted at him through the accumulating dust clouds. Wilber was lost in the fray of it, waving his arms crazily and coughing uncontrollably. Eventually the dust settled and the two men were left standing bewildered, completely covered in a thin sheet of grime.

It was just about enough to make Williams leave right then, and he would have, if his determination to confront Wilber wasn't so strong. Hastily he slapped himself several times to dislodge the worst of it. The rest would need to be washed off later.

"This was a fresh suit, too," he scoffed.

"Aw, shut up," Wilber snapped at him. "This place should have been cleaned months ago. Anyway, it's definitely not my fault."

Williams bit back a harsh retort; insulting his boss was hardly the best way to start a serious conversation, and Wilber needed to be somewhat negotiable if he was going to give any information. "Let's just get this over with, then we can both get outta' here," he soothed.

Wilber snorted. "Get it out, then."

Williams took a breath. He had gone over what he intended to say to his boss, but hadn't bothered to remember any of it; but a thought-out dialogue probably wasn't a good idea anyway, because conversations rarely stayed on their intended course.

"There have been some concerns, involving the testing your scientists are composing in the lab," he began, slowly so Wilber would understand.

The bearded man rolled his eyes. "There are always concerns," he drawled.

Williams ignored him. "Apparently some of them are questioning their safety, and the safety of their fellows employees."

"If there was a problem, I would have told you," Wilber scoffed.

Williams hardly believed this would be the case, but did not speak aloud his opinion. "As part of my job, I am required to ensure the safety of your employees, sir. And when there is a noticeable incline in staff complaint, it is my job to look into the situation."

"Jeez, Scott, I know all that! I hired you, didn't I?" Wilber was sounding increasingly annoyed now.

Williams folded his arms, and looked very sternly at his boss with an expression that made him quaver slightly. "You haven't been entirely honest with me, have you, Frank?"

Wilber did not answer; they both knew the answer to that question.

"You've been very careful to hide the details of your experiments, from me, and the other officers," Williams continued. "Don't bother denying it; you'd be wasting your breath. I don't know entirely what you're doing in that room, Frank. And as long as there isn't some enraged chimpanzee locked up there, I could care less. But if people are starting to fear for their own lives then it becomes a serious matter."

"Well, you needn't waste your time," Wilber told him stubbornly. "You said so yourself: it's none of your business."

Williams scowled at his boss. There was a long silence between them. Then, "Are you aware, Frank, that five of your scientist tried to desert last night?"

The shock expressed on the bearded man's face was almost comical. "What?!"

"These people are afraid. You're scaring the crap out of your own scientists." Suddenly Williams was growing hot with anger, and fear. He shoved a thick finger at the door.

"I don't know what your screwing around with in there, but if it's enough to encourage five men and women into quitting, then it sure as hell is my business."

Wilber did not look at him. He was staring at the floor, guiltily shuffling his feet.

Williams relaxed slightly, realizing he was getting through to his boss. He allowed his shoulders to sag and his anger to simmer away.

"I would like to request a thorough examination of your laboratory, and all other components of this building in which testing and relations to testing are being performed," he announced. "Actually, no; I demand permission to search this building."

There was another long pause; finally Wilber seemed to accept there would be no getting out of this predicament, and agreed.

Williams nodded assent and moved toward the door. Before leaving the room he told Wilber, "I will need some time to organize a group. In the meantime, make sure your team is prepared for the search."

Then he left the room.

* * *

Tucker Lane was waiting anxiously outside. Under a keen eye he observed every passing minute he was left standing there; easily frightened and all around paranoid, the nervous man took careful note of such things. It helped him to feel more secure during difficult situations, such as this.

And right now he was feeling especially edgy, considering he had been waiting outside Wilber's private lounge for nearly eleven minutes. Williams had already gone; precisely three minutes past the burly security officer had emerged from the lounge and headed down the hallway. For the brief moment that Lane saw his face, he noticed that the officer's expression was stern but glinting with triumph. Needless to say, that expression unnerved Lane even more as he pondered want could have happened between the two.

Finally, exactly thirteen minutes since he had entered, Wilber exited the lounge. Lane leapt at him and smothered him with questions.

Wilber gave him a serious look. His expression was noticeably tense, like he was suddenly immensely strained. With a terse voice he announced, "I've granted Williams permission to search the lab."

Lane's eye widened. "Why? When?" He stuttered.

"Soon," Wilber said. He placed a firm hand on his assistant's shoulder. "I need you to go down there, and tell everyone what's happening; that a security team will be arriving, and they need to get ready."

"Why'd you let him...?"

"You think I had any choice?" Wilber snapped. "He knows about the deserters; he's gonna hold it over ours heads unless he gets what he wants."

"B-But the project!" Lane stammered. "'Serum Desolation!' They'll find it...!"

Wilber's voice was almost a whisper; "No, they won't. I'll make sure it's hidden. They can tear that place upside down, but they won't find the serum, I promise you that."

* * *

 **Wow, it's been a long time. xD I'm not sure if anyone's reading this, especially after such a long hiatus, but I just wanted to make it clear I haven't quit this story yet. I struggled with this chapter for a long time, trying to get it to work better with the story. Anyhow, if anyone's reading, please consider leaving a review; I'd like to know how I'm doing and what I should try to improve. Thanks. :D**


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